


Our hips rockin' as we keep lip lockin'

by cleverthanher



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:30:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2556419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleverthanher/pseuds/cleverthanher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's only one thing on Asher's mind, and it most definitely has nothing to do with Torts class.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our hips rockin' as we keep lip lockin'

Asher doesn’t know why he’s so infatuated with him, with Connor fucking Walsh of all people, surely the cockiest bastard to ever set foot on the Middleton campus.

Nothing about this whole thing makes sense, but he can’t stop himself, can’t stop his mind when his thoughts drift from studying torts to thinking about Connor: the sharp edge of his jawline, the crooked, shit-eating grin that he seems to give everybody but Asher himself.

He kind of wants to slap himself when he makes that stupid comment, the “Wait, you’re gay?” slipping out of his mouth before he can stop it, his heart suspended in the second of silence until Connor just gives him a _look_ , the one that makes his heart jump and his cheeks heat up and his mind a complete, utter mess.

-

Connor’s mouth is on his, searing and hot and Asher wants to melt into it because holy shit, he’s fucking kissing Connor Walsh.

Connor breaks the kiss and laughs into his mouth, one sharp bark of laughter, probably at the expression currently on Asher’s face, his pupils blown black and mouth slick. But then he’s back again, kissing and licking and God, Asher had no idea that the feel of stubble rubbing and burning against his skin would be so addictive.

-

“Didn’t your Daddy teach you manners?” Connor smirks before pulling Asher’s hand over to where he’s hard in his suit pants, the weight of his cock pressed against the zipper.

Asher’s hand clumsily strokes over, and he’s grateful that Connor can sense his nervousness because he takes over, shoves his pants down and then looks up at Asher with a wicked grin. “Your turn.”

-

Connor has him pushed up against the mahogany wood panelling of the living room, their hips rutting together restlessly. He’s breathing hard into Asher’s neck, his breath hot and something curls low in the pit of Asher’s stomach, making him pull Connor closer and move faster, faster, until—

He comes, crying out into his pillow and making a complete mess of his bedsheets but he doesn’t care, he can’t when he’s too busy processing what the fuck just happened. His chest is heaving and he feels the phantom marks of Connor’s fingers digging into his hips, the weight of his cock against his own—

Asher needs a shower.

-

It keeps on happening and Asher thinks he might be going crazy.

-

It’s just the two of them left, everyone having packed up and left a few minutes before. Connor slings his satchel over his shoulder and makes his way to the front door, just past where Asher’s sitting in an armchair.

Connor leans in and runs his fingertips over the back of Asher’s neck, whispering “See you later, pretty boy” before leaving.

Maybe he’s not going crazy.


End file.
